Horst quotes

[Series of scenes in which he explains why he "did time"] I defrauded a major corporation.

I robbed the second-largest bank in France using only a ballpoint pen.

I created a hole in the ozone over Avignon.

I killed a man. With this thumb.

Django: Now don't you feel better, R?my, huh? You've helped a noble cause!
R?my: "Noble"? We're thieves, Dad, and what we're stealing is, let's face it, garbage!
Django: It isn't stealing if no one wants it!
R?my: If no one wants it, why are we stealing it?!

Émile: [referring to R?my's bipedal gait] Why are you walking like that?
R?my: I don't want to constantly have to wash my paws. Do you ever think about how we walk on the same paws that we handle food with? Do you ever think about what we put into our mouths?
Émile: All the time.
R?my: Ugh. When I eat, I don't want to taste everywhere my paws have been.
Émile: Well, go ahead, but if Dad sees you walking like that, he's not gonna like it.

[R?my and Émile have just been struck by lightning]
R?my: Whoa you've gotta taste this! It's-it's got this kind of, burny, melty, it's not really a smoky taste, it's-it's a certain, oh, it's kindof like a "Whoosh! Kaboom! Zap!" kind of taste, don't you think? What would you call that flavor?
Émile: [hesitantly] Lightning-y?
R?my: Yeah! It's lightning-y!

Émile: Wait a minute... you read?
R?my: Well... not excessively.
Émile: Aw, man! Does Dad know?
R?my: You could fill a book — a lot of books — with things Dad doesn't know. And they have, which is why I read. Which, is also our secret.
Émile: I don't like secrets. All this cooking and...and reading and TV-watching, while we...read and cook. It's like you're involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?

Gusteau: [as a book illustration] If you are hungry, go up and look around, R?my. Why do you wait and mope?
R?my: Well, I just lost my family...all my friends. Probably forever.
Gusteau: How do you know?
R?my: I...uh...you are an illustration. Why am I talking to you?
Gusteau: Oh, you just lost your family, all your friends. You are lonely.
R?my: Yeah...well, you're dead.
Gusteau: Ah, but that is no match for wishful thinking! If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead. Now go up and look around!

Gusteau: What are you doing?!
R?my: I'm hungry! I don't know where I am, I don't know when I'll find food again!
Gusteau: R?my, you are better than that. You are a cook! A cook makes. A thief takes. You're not a thief.
R?my: But I am hungry.
Gusteau: R?my, food will come. Food always comes to those who love to cook.

Larousse: Hey boss, look who's here! Alfredo Linguini, Renata's little boy! All grown-up. You remember Renata, Gusteau's old flame?
Skinner: [disinterested] Oh, yes, how are you, uh...
Larousse: Linguini.
Skinner: Linguini. How is--?
Linguini: M-My mother?
Larousse: Renata.
Skinner: Ah yes, Renata. How is she?
Linguini: She's good. Well, not--She's been better. I-I mean, uh--
Horst: She died.
Skinner: [awkwardly] Oh. I'm...sorry.
Linguini: Oh, no, don't be. She believed in heaven, so she's covered. You know, afterlife-wise. [he gives Skinner a letter]
Skinner: What is this?
Linguini: She-she dropped it off for you. I-I think she hoped it would help me. You know, get a job...here.

[Remy and Gusteau are talking about Linguini]
Gusteau: What do I always say, Remy? Anyone can cook.
R?my: Well yeah, anyone can. That doesn't mean that anyone should.
Gusteau: Well, that is not stopping him. See?
[Linguini has accidentally spilled a pot of soup and is attempting to cover up his mistake by throwing random ingredients into it]
R?my: What?! What is he doing?! No...no! No, this is terrible; he's ruining the soup, and nobody's noticing?! It's your restaurant! Do something!
Gusteau: What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.
R?my: But he's ruining the soup!! We gotta tell someon-- [slips and falls]

[Linguini has trapped R?my in a jar]
Linguini: What should I do now?
Skinner: Kill it!
Linguini: Now?
Skinner: No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad?

[Skinner has made Linguini drunk]
Skinner: Have you ever had a pet rat?
Linguini: Nope.
Skinner: Did you work in a lab with rats?
Linguini: Nope.
Skinner: Perhaps you lived in squalor at some point?!
Linguini: Nopity, nopity no.
Skinner: You know something about rats! You know you do!
Linguini: You know who know do whack-a-do...ratta-tatta! Hey, why do they call it that?
Skinner: What?
Linguini: Ratatouille! It's like a stew, right? Why do they call it that? If you're gonna name a food, you should give it a name that sounds delicious! "Ratatouille" doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like "rat" and "patootie". Rat-patootie...which does not sound delicious. [holds up his glass, gesturing for more wine]
Skinner: [angrily] Regrettably...[Drops wine bottle into trash can] we are all out of wine.

R?my: He's your son?!
Gusteau: I have a son?!
R?my: How could you not know?!
Gusteau: I-I am a figment of your imagination! You did not know, how could I?

Mustafa: Someone has asked what is new!
Horst: New?
Mustafa: Yes! What do I tell them?
Horst: Well, what did you tell them?
Mustafa: I told them I would ask!
Skinner: What are you blathering about?
Horst: Customers are asking what is new! What should I tell them?
Skinner: What did you tell them?
Mustafa: I told them I would ask!

[Django shows R?my dead rats in exterminator shop]
Django: Take a good, long look, R?my. This what happens when a rat gets a little too comfortable around humans. The world we live in belongs to the enemy. We must live carefully. We look out for our own kind, R?my. When all is said and done, we're all we've got. [starts to walk away]
R?my: No.
Django: [stops] What?
R?my: No. Dad, I don't believe it. You're telling me that the future is, can only be, more of this?
Django: This is the way things are. You can't change nature.
R?my: Change is nature, Dad. The part that we can influence. And it starts when we decide. [he walks away]
Django: Where are you going?
R?my: With luck, forward.

[Linguini is having a nightmare]
Linguini: Do you know what you would like this evening sir?
Ego: Yes. I'd like your heart, roasted on a spit.

[The restaurant thinks Linguini made a fantastic soup]
Skinner: [to Linguini]What are you playing at?
Linguini: I, um--am I still fired?
Colette: You can't fire him!
Skinner: What?!
Colette: LeClaire [food critic] likes it, yeah? She made a point of telling you so! If she write a review to that effect and find out you fire the cook responsible?
Skinner: Ha! He's a garbage-boy.
Colette: Who made something she liked! How can we claim to represent the name of Gusteau if we don't apply his most cherished belief?
Skinner: And what belief is that, Mademoiselle Tatou?
Colette: Anyone can cook. [whole room falls silent]

Mustafa: Do you know what you would like this evening, sir?
Ego: Yes, I think I do. After hearing a lot of over-heated puffery about your new cook, do you know what I'm craving? A little... perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well-seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?
Mustafa: With what, sir?
Ego: Perspective, fresh out, I take it?
[Mustafa is confused and stays silent]
Ego: Very well. Since you are all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this bloody town, I'll make you a deal: you provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.
Mustafa: I'm afraid...um...your dinner selection?
Ego: [bursts out of his chair and gets right in Mustafa's face] Tell your chef, Linguini, that I want whatever what he dares to serve me! Tell him to hit me with his best shot!

Skinner: No, no, no, no, no, no-o-o-o-o!!
Lawyer: The DNA matches, the timing works, everything checks out. He is Gusteau's son.
Skinner: This can't just happen! The whole thing is a set up! The boy knows! [sees Linguini innocently cooking in kitchen] Look at him out there, pretending to be an idiot! He's toying with my mind like a cat with a ball of-of something!
Lawyer: String?
Skinner: Yes! Playing dumb, taunting me with that rat!
Lawyer: Rat?
Skinner: Yes! He's consorting with it, deliberately trying to make me think it's important!
Lawyer: The rat?
Skinner: Exactly!
Lawyer: [awkwardly] Is the rat important?
Skinner: Of course not! He just wants me to think that it is! Oh, I see the theatricality of it! A rat appears on the boy's first night, I order him to kill it, and now he wants me to see it everywhere! [snapping fingers] Oooooh! "Oooh, it's here! No, it isn't, it's here!" Am I seeing things, am I crazy?! Is there a Phantom Rat, or is there not?! Oh no! I refuse to be sucked into his little game, of--
Lawyer: [disturbed] Should I be concerned about this? About you?

Linguini: Listen, I just want you to know how honored I am to be studying under such a--
Colette: [suddenly pins Linguini's sleeve to the cutting board with a knife] No, you listen! I just want you'to know exactly who you are dealing with! How many women do you see in this kitchen?
Linguini: Well, I uh--
Colette: [Sticks a second knife to his sleeve] Only me. Why do you think that is? Because haute cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules written by stupid, old men. Rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world, but still I'm here. How did this happen?
Linguini: Well because you, because you--
Colette: [Sticks a third knife to his sleeve] Because I am the toughest cook in this kitchen! I have worked too hard for too long to get here, and I am not going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky! Got it?
Linguini: [Nervously] Uh-huh.
[Colette removes the knives pinning Linguini's arm down, causing him to fall to the ground]
Linguini: [Gets up, laughs hysterically] Wow!

Lawyer: I was worried about the hair sample you gave me. I had to sent it back to the lab.
Skinner: Why?
Lawyer: Because the first time, it came back identified as...rodent hair.

Colette: "Sweetbread a la Gusteau: Sweetbread cooked in a seaweed salt crust with cuttlefish tentacle, dog rose pur?e, geoduck egg, dried white fungus? Anchovy licorice sauce." I don't know this recipe, but it's Gusteau's so--Lalo! We have some veal stomach soaking, yes?
Lalo: Yeah, veal stomach!
Linguini: [disgusted] Veal stomach?

Ego: What is it, Ambrister?
Ambrister: Uh, Gusteau's--
Ego: Finally closing, is it?
Ambrister: No--
Ego: More financial trouble?
Ambrister: No, it's-it's--
Ego: Announced a new line of microwave egg rolls? What, what?! Spit it out!
Ambrister: It's-it's come back. It's popular.
Ego: [does a spit-take] I haven't reviewed Gusteau's in years.
Ambrister: No sir.
Ego: [looks through filing cabinet and pulls out a piece of paper] My last review condemned it to the tourist trade!
Ambrister:Yes sir.
Ego: [he reads his review] I said, "Gusteau has finally found his rightful place in history right alongside another equally famous Chef, Monsieur Boyardee."
Ambrister: Touch?.
Ego: That is where I left it.'That was my last word. The last word.
Ambrister: Yes.
Ego: Then tell me, Ambrister. How could it be Pop-u-lar?

R?my: Hey I brought you something to--[sees Émile eating garbage] Ah! No, no, no, no! Spit that out right now! [he does] I have got to teach you about food. Close your eyes. [Émile obeys, R?my hands him piece of cheese] Now take a bite of thi...[Émile snarfs it] No, no, no! Don't just hork it down!
Émile: Too late.

Colette: I know the Gusteau style code. In every dish, Chef Gusteau always had something unexpected. I will show you. I memorized all these recipes.
Linguini: [taking notes] Always do something unexpected...
Colette: No! Follow the recipe!
Linguini: But you just said to--
Colette: No. It was his job to be unexpected. It is our job to follow the recipe.

Linguini: You're Anton Ego.
Ego: You're slow for someone in the fast lane.
Linguini: And you're thin for someone who likes food!
Ego: I don't like food, I love it. If I don't love it, I don't swallow.

Colette: People think haute cuisine is snooty, so chef must also be snooty. But not so. Lalo there ran away from home at twelve. Got hired by circus people as an acrobat. And then he get fired for messing around with the ringmaster's daughter. [pauses] Horst has done time.
Linguini: What for?
Colette: No one know for sure. He changes the story every time you asked him.
Horst: [in a series of flashbacks]
I defrauded a major corporation.
I robbed the second-largest bank in France using only a ballpoint pen.
I created a hole in the ozone over Avignon.
I killed a man with this thumb.
Colette: Don't ever play cards with Pompidou. He's been banned from Las Vegas and Monte Carlo. Larousse ran guns for the Resistance.
Linguini: Which resistance?
Colette: He won't say. Apparently, they didn't win.

Colette: So you see. We are artist, pirate. More than cooks are we.
Linguini: We?
Colette: Oui. You are one of us now, oui?
Linguini: Oui. Thank you, by the way, for all the advice about cooking.
Colette: Thank you, too.
Linguini: For what?
Colette: For taking it.

Colette: This is no time to experiment! We have customers waiting!
Linguini: You're right! I should listen to you! [he pushes R?my through his toque. R?my slaps him in the face with his own hand immediately] Ow!

[Skinner has asked his lawyer to help him with Gusteau's will]
Lawyer: Ahem, well, the will stipulates that if after a period of two years from the date of death no heir appears, Gusteau's business interests will pass to his sous-chef, you.
Skinner: I know what the will stipulates! What I want to know is if this letter, [looks at Linguini out window] if this boy changes anything!
Lawyer: [compares Linguini's image to Gusteau's] There's not much resemblance...
Skinner: There's no resemblance, at all! He's not Gusteau's son; Gusteau had no children! And what of the timing of all this?! The deadline in the will expires in less than a month! Suddenly some boy arrives with a letter from his recently-deceased mother claiming Gusteau is his father?! Highly suspect!
Lawyer: [observes Gusteau's old toque] But the boy does not know?
Skinner: She claims she never told him, or Gusteau, and asks that I not tell!
Lawyer: Why you? What does she want?
Skinner: [disinterested] A job for the boy.
Lawyer: [takes out Gusteau's hair from toque] Only a job?
Skinner: Well...yes.
Lawyer: [folds hair in tissue] Then what are you worried about? If he works here, you'll be able to keep an eye on him while I do a little digging, find out how much of this is real. I'll need you to collect some DNA samples from the boy, hair, maybe.
Skinner: Mark my words, the whole thing is highly suspect! [nervously] He knows something...
Lawyer: Relax; he's a garbage boy. I think you can handle him. [leaves Skinner feeling uneasy]

[Django and Émile have just rescued R?my]
Django: Where are you going?
R?my: Back to the restaurant! They'll fail without me!
Django: Why do you care?
R?my: Because I'm a cook!

R?my: What are you eating?
Émile: [looks at what he's eating as if for the first time] I don't really know. I think it was some sort of wrapper once.

R?my: Dad, I...I don't know what to say.
Django: I was wrong about your friend, about you.
R?my: I don't want you to think I'm choosing this over family. I can't choose between two halves of myself.
Django: I'm not talkin' about cooking. I'm talkin' about guts.

Linguini: When I added that extra ingredient instead of following the recipe like you said, that wasn't me...either.
Colette: What do you mean?
Linguini: I mean, I wouldn't have done that. I would've followed the recipe, I would've followed your advice. I would've followed your advice 'til the ends of the Earth because I love your-r-r-r advice. But--
R?my: [In Linguini's toque, to self] Don't do it...
Linguini: [hesitantly] I have a secret. It's sort of disturbing. I have a ra--I have a ra-a-a-a--
Colette: You have a rash?
Linguini: No, no, no. I have this-this tiny, uh, little, little--[rapidly] a-tiny-chef-who-tells-me-what-to-do.

Gusteau: So, we have given up.
R?my: Why do you say that?
Gusteau: We are in a cage inside a car trunk, awaiting a future in frozen food products.
R?my: No. I'm the one in a cage; I've given up. You...are free.
Gusteau: I am only as free as you imagine me to be, as you are.
R?my: Oh please! I'm sick of pretending. I pretend I'm a rat for my father, I pretend to be a human through Linguini, I-I pretend you exist so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?
Gusteau: [chuckles] Ah, but you don't, R?my. You never did.

[Health inspector walks in on the rat colony, stares in shock for a moment, then runs away]
R?my: Stop that health inspector!
Django: Delta team, go, go, go!

[Colette walks into the kitchen and sees the rats cooking, and looks like she's going to vomit]
Linguini: Colette, wait! Colette. You came back. Colette...
Colette: Don't say a word. If I think about it, I might change my mind. Just tell me what the rat wants to cook.

R?my: [Describing the time after Ego gave his review] It was a great night. The happiest night of my life. But the only thing predictable about life is its unpredictability. [A sign saying "CLOSED" is placed on the front door of Gusteau's] Well, we had to let Skinner and the health inspector loose, and of course they ratted us out. The food didn't matter. Once it got out there were rats in the kitchen, oh, man, the restaurant was closed, and Ego lost his job and his credibility. But don't feel too bad for him. He's doing very well as a small business investor. He seems very happy.
Rat: How do you know? [R?my pulls back the leaves behind them to reveal the rats are in the attic of a restaurant. Ego is sitting beneath them, happily toasting his fellow customers. There is a dinging sound, and R?my turns to see Colette in the kitchen, gesturing at him]
R?my: Oh, gotta go. Dinner rush.

Linguini: Can I interest you in a dessert this evening?
Ego: Don't you always?
Linguini: Which one would you like?
Ego: [to R?my, who is looking through the kitchen door window] Surprise me!

[Last lines]
Django: Yeah, that story gets better the way I tell it. [Chuckling Hey, can we get some food over here?

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